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It just tells me that, in his mind, love is how far someone will go out of their way just for him. Not necessarily material things but acts of service, which, quite often, ARE things that only a mother would do for her child. Or MAYBE a wife would do for her husband, if not so embarrassed by the extent that the acts are to be carried out to be "qualified" as "satisfactory".
DH has told me that he only feels loved when I'm doing "Mom" stuff for him, like making all the decisions about where to go and what to do, preparing and serving food, treating his cuts or scrapes, buying his clothes, make his doctor appointments and go with him, etc.
His pretended helplessness is ridiculous. If I buy his favorite cherry pie, for example, he absolutely will not eat it unless I cut a big wedge of it, warm it and serve it to him on a plate with the kind of fork he insists on. If I don't, the pie will sit untouched in the fridge until I finally have to throw it out.
I hate this behavior. It makes me want to flee. I thought I was married to a man, not a child.
He can entertain himself but refuses to if I'm around. It's easier to badger me about how bored he is. I don't even have a life of my own any more. We fight a lot. He says I'm the one with the problem and that I have to go on antidepressants so I'll be easier for him to live with. "So I'll be a better Mommy to him," is what it sounds like to me.
It has gotten to the point that I sometimes take off now and hide in a hotel for days so he can't find me.
I kind of get what may be going on. He was seriously ill, actually near death as a child and because of that and the fact that he was their only child at the time, his parents made life too easy for him. He has a persistent sense of entitlement.
But I've known him for 25 years and this suffocating infantilism -- if that's what it is -- is a relatively recent development, perhaps only in the last 3 or 4 years.
DH has told me that he only feels loved when I'm doing "Mom" stuff for him, like making all the decisions about where to go and what to do, preparing and serving food, treating his cuts or scrapes, buying his clothes, make his doctor appointments and go with him, etc.
His pretended helplessness is ridiculous. If I buy his favorite cherry pie, for example, he absolutely will not eat it unless I cut a big wedge of it, warm it and serve it to him on a plate with the kind of fork he insists on. If I don't, the pie will sit untouched in the fridge until I finally have to throw it out.
I hate this behavior. It makes me want to flee. I thought I was married to a man, not a child.
He can entertain himself but refuses to if I'm around. It's easier to badger me about how bored he is. I don't even have a life of my own any more. We fight a lot. He says I'm the one with the problem and that I have to go on antidepressants so I'll be easier for him to live with. "So I'll be a better Mommy to him," is what it sounds like to me.
It has gotten to the point that I sometimes take off now and hide in a hotel for days so he can't find me.
I kind of get what may be going on. He was seriously ill, actually near death as a child and because of that and the fact that he was their only child at the time, his parents made life too easy for him. He has a persistent sense of entitlement.
But I've known him for 25 years and this suffocating infantilism -- if that's what it is -- is a relatively recent development, perhaps only in the last 3 or 4 years.
It just tells me that, in his mind, love is how far someone will go out of their way just for him. Not necessarily material things but acts of service, which, quite often, ARE things that only a mother would do for her child. Or MAYBE a wife would do for her husband, if not so embarrassed by the extent that the acts are to be carried out to be "qualified" as "satisfactory".
I think acts of service are important, especially in our later years when we start to fail. He’s still in excellent health in his late 60’s. I would have no problem being his caregiver when he starts to need care, if I can call in outside help when I need it.
But for now, his healthy self can get up from the sofa and get his own damn pie.
We had a talk about the pie this morning and maybe even made some progress, who knows. I told him that remembering to buy his favorite foods is a deliberate act of love, not mere accident. I said he can show me he loves me by having the consideration to eat what was brought home for him, whether or not it is served to him warmed on a platter with his special fork.
Well, well, well...
I am not a psychologist fo course, but could it be that somehow in his mind, you have taken his mother's place, particularly since the day she died was also your birthday ?
Perhaps some counselling could help him through his grief and anxiety about his loss. Losing a mother is a dreadful thing.
Good luck to you both.
I agree 100% with this.
And if he's reluctant, this (grief counseling) is something you could begin together, as you mentioned that you loved her a great deal too. At least that would get him in the door.
I don't really understand about the pie. I get that he's capable of getting it himself, but why is this such a big deal?
Fluffy, wouldn't you like it if you were in bed watching TV and your husband brought you a bowl of your favorite ice cream? Sure you could have gotten it yourself, but still...
Sometimes it's just nice to do something unnecessary for someone else. And it feels good to be the recipient of an unnecessary kind act. It really does show that the other person cares about you.
And if he's reluctant, this (grief counseling) is something you could begin together, as you mentioned that you loved her a great deal too. At least that would get him in the door.
You know, that had never occurred to me. Thanks for a genuinely helpful suggestion.
I think acts of service are important, especially in our later years when we start to fail. He’s still in excellent health in his late 60’s. I would have no problem being his caregiver when he starts to need care, if I can call in outside help when I need it.
But for now, his healthy self can get up from the sofa and get his own damn pie.
We had a talk about the pie this morning and maybe even made some progress, who knows. I told him that remembering to buy his favorite foods is a deliberate act of love, not mere accident. I said he can show me he loves me by having the consideration to eat what was brought home for him, whether or not it is served to him warmed on a platter with his special fork.
My grandpa would be sitting in his recliner, watching TV, while my grandma sat at the kitchen table, reading tabloids. He'd yell from the living room, "Ma! Gimme a beer!" and she'd respond, "I'll think about it!" and finish reading her article. Things were more equal than they appeared on the surface. It was understood that she would never be expected to cut the grass, and he would never be expected to do the laundry. Different or even separate is okay, so long as both people contribute in some way.
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